


Nothing Inside

by GinnyFics21



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Romance, Sad with a Happy Ending, Self-Hatred, Sexual Content, Songfic, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27222049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinnyFics21/pseuds/GinnyFics21
Summary: No matter how far up you climb, your demons will always be there to try and pull you back down. The bravest and most difficult thing you can do is accept them and keep trudging forward. Draco struggled on his own, but with Hermione’s help, maybe he could find acceptance for himself within, mistakes and all.Dramione post-war songfic inspired by Nothing Inside by MGK. Rated M for dark themes, substance abuse and sexual content.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 12
Kudos: 23





	1. Part I: Learning

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I’ve been working on a new [and already very long] full-length fic that I’m trying to get to a good place before I start posting, but in the intermediary, the idea for this story came to me as I listened to the new MGK album on repeat the last few weeks and I thought to myself, ‘You know what would be fun to resurrect? A songfic!’
> 
> I admit, this got a little darker than I originally intended, but it felt the most natural to let it go there. Wanted to add that little warning! Please check tags for the rest of the warnings!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this 5-shot songfic (that was, of course, supposed to be a one-shot but I’m incapable of keeping things short, apparently; case and point, this author’s note). 
> 
> Rated M for sexual content in Part IV and general overall dark themes & substance abuse.

**Nothing Inside**

_Lyrics scattered throughout in bracketed italics (starting in Part II) to Nothing Inside by Machine Gun Kelly_

O-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Part I: Learning**

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

“It was just a nightmare,” came Hermione’s voice, tired but soothing, “Here, lie back down.”

Draco sat, shaking, head in his hands drooping between his legs.

“Please, Draco,” her hand found his arm in the dark, fingers running up and down softly as her eyes drifted closed again.

She’d never understand the things that woke him up in the middle of the night, Draco thought scornfully to himself. She’d never have to live her life blocking out the memories of screams she’d caused or the light she’d extinguished. He could tell she was falling back asleep as her breath slowed again beside him and he shrugged her hand off of him as it fell back to the bed. He got up, moving swiftly across the room and out the door into her living room. He lit a fire in the fireplace and sat himself on the couch in front of it as his eyes wandered the room for a moment, taking in the pristinely organized bookshelves and thoughtfully decorated mantel; the neatly folded blankets and the thriving plants in the corner. 

His eyes finally made it back to the fire and he watched as the flames danced, trying not to let the irony of his comfortable existence overtake him in the moment. A huff emitted from his nose as he batted down the feelings of inadequacy that came with admiring his girlfriend’s well organized and meticulously planned life. Though he couldn’t imagine she’d planned for him to be a part of that life; neither of them could have planned for what the last three years had held. 

He let his mind think back on the events that had led him to where he was today as he tried to shake the lingering tension of his dream.

_“Draco, Hermione Granger is here to see you,” his mother’s eyebrows were raised inquisitively at him as he looked up from the book he was reading, processing her words._

_“...Granger? Why would Granger be here to see me?” He sounded as annoyed as he was confused._

_Hermione had taken that as her cue to walk around the corner and into the room, “Hi, Malfoy, I was hoping you might have a few minutes to talk.”_

_Draco had looked at her, completely at a loss for words before he looked back at his mother, whose eyebrows had raised even higher, if that were possible, “I —” he choked out, “Alright?”_

_Narcissa left them alone, closing the door slowly behind her as if hoping to catch some explanation but Hermione simply walked forward into the room, settling herself on the couch across from his armchair. Draco looked at her expectantly as he certainly didn’t know what he could possibly have to say to her._

_“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here.”_

_“Clearly.”_

_She gave him a small smile, looking as though she was trying to figure out what to say now that she_ was _here, “During the Battle of Hogwarts I saw something in you,” she started and Draco scoffed._

_“You came to talk about the war? It’s been four years, Granger, why did you come to my house to talk about the war that we fought against each other? Do you think I don’t dwell on it enough on my own? Hoping to give me a good reminder? Well don’t worry, there’s no need.”_

_“Can I say what I came to say?” She asked, and when his mouth finally shut, she continued, “I saw the look you had on your face when your parents called you back to the other side. And I haven’t been able to get it out of my head for four years now.”_

_“And why’s that?” He decided to play into her game, she’d obviously come here with a purpose._

_“Because you looked lost; Sad, almost. But most certainly like you’d have liked not to go; To finish the war on our side. And I don’t know why but I just keep coming back to that.”_

_“What does it matter? It doesn’t change the things I did when I was one of them.”_

_“I think it matters a whole lot, actually.”_

_“I can think of a few names that would disagree with you, if they were still here.”_

_Her stomach twisted at his harsh words. Though even that statement was uttered with a pain that was tangible and the harshness was aimed at himself, “Malfoy, I heard you’ve been shutting yourself away since the war,” she said more directly, realizing that conciseness was going to be her best option with his sardonic banter._

_“Bold statement for people to make. Maybe I just enjoy the comforts of my home and a quiet life on my own. Did you ever think of that? Did you ever consider that perhaps I’d be quite content living out my days here not ever being confronted by another war hero again?”_

_“Even if you are content, it’s only in a superficial way. It’s not healthy to lock away experiences like that. I’m here because I want to get to know you; work with you, maybe, to help you move forward.”_

_“I don’t fucking need help,” he said in a low voice, “And I don’t appreciate being told I do by someone who doesn’t know a fucking thing about me or what I’ve experienced.”_

_“Well how about this,” she pivoted coolly, almost as though she’d come with a backup plan, expecting his reaction, “Since I was once a prisoner in your home, how about you allow me to stop by once a week for an hour as a kind of retribution.”_

_“And what exactly do you want to do for an hour once a week here, in the place you were a prisoner? Recant old memories?” She’d pulled the trump card and he couldn’t say it wasn’t having the intended effects as he shifted in his chair._

_“I just want to talk; understand what you’ve been through and offer some support, if you’ll let me.”_

_“We have nothing to talk about,” he paused as his eyes locked back on hers and he felt another brief pang of guilt as he ate his words, “Besides the fact that I owe you an apology,” he’d been so caught off guard by her visit that he’d skipped over what should have been his initial greeting to the woman he‘d tormented most of his life, he sighed, trying to take the edge from his voice but it still held an intensity he couldn’t help, “A large one, obviously. One that won’t even matter in the end because of the magnitude it deserves that I couldn’t possibly convey, but you’re here so I’ll do my best, if that’s what you came for.”_

_“It’s not—”_

_“I’m sorry,” he watched as she closed her mouth, looking a little surprised, but interested, “I apologize for the git I was at Hogwarts towards all of you and the cruel things I used to say. My views at that point in my life were egregiously wrong. And I apologize for the things you experienced in the war at the hands of me and my family. It makes me sick to have had any part in the night you were a prisoner here and I regret not doing anything to stop it. You never deserved any of that.”_

_“Thank you for that. I know you couldn't have done anything to stop your Aunt. I don't blame you.”_

_“Well that makes one of us," he said before he cleared his throat lightly, trying to sit up a little straighter, "I’m not sure what that all counts for, but you should have heard it a lot sooner. Now, do you really still want to come hang out at the manor every week, or is that what you were hoping to work up to? Because I certainly don’t need lead in time for an overdue apology.”_

_“No, I still want to come,” she said quite decisively and almost a bit amused._

_“Well what on earth are we going to talk about then, if not that?”_

_She chuckled, “I know this is going to be uncomfortable, so maybe we just start with sitting here together, I can bring a book, see if things get less tense between us and then maybe you’ll be open to some possibilities.”_

_“There’s no point to this, you’re wasting your time if you think you can fix me,” he shook his head, “And may I ask what coerced you to come here after so long?”_

_“Malfoy I saw something in you in that brief moment at the Battle, and it’s something I don’t think even you’ve explored. I saw the desire to make the right decision and stay on our side to be a part of something good. But how could you, with your parents calling out to you like they were? You walked away eventually that night and for that, you avoided Azkaban. But I think if you wanted to be a part of something then, then you probably want to now. You probably don’t want to be sitting in your house doing nothing, but you don’t know how to let yourself move forward. So why not let me stop over and spend some time with you and maybe we can figure it out together?”_

_“Can’t imagine Weasley would like that much,” he quipped, looking for another angle._

_“Ron and I broke up a few months ago, actually,” she said, “Partially facilitated by this. I’ve wanted to come talk to you for years but every time I mentioned it he would get angry about me even bringing up your name. Not that he’d ever tell me what I could or couldn’t do, but I knew it was a tough subject for him so I’d drop it. Recently it’s been on my mind more often than not,” she paused, “There was an article in the Prophet on your family.”_

_“I know,” he enunciated the words, feeling a renewed annoyance at the mention of another frustrating subject, “Not a particularly fluffy piece.”_

_“It was about finding dark artifacts at the manor during the raids they’ve been carrying out at the houses of ex-Death Eaters,” she nodded, “I just kept thinking about how difficult it must be for you to be trying to stay out of the spotlight only to be dragged back into it to those kinds of accusations.”_

_“The artifacts they claimed they found were registered, by the way.”_

_“Yes, I did some fact checking when I read it because I didn’t believe it. I asked Harry first, of course, and he said he hadn’t been assigned to your house but that he didn’t remember any concerning reports. So I did some digging on my own and I found the registration certificates that deemed the embedded curses in the artifacts identified were fully disabled, and noted that the pieces were nothing but show items. I wrote a lengthy letter to the Prophet on their lack of reporting integrity.”_

_“How thoughtful.”_

_“There was a picture of you and your mother in the article and it reminded me of the look from the Battle. You still seemed lost and like you were hurting… being entangled with the Dark Arts again. After the article, I made it clear to Ron that getting in contact with you was something that was important to me, and it led to one of our larger fights about how we deal with our post-war trauma and I left. We talked again a few days later, of course, and agreed that although we had a lot of love and respect for each other, we’d fallen out of romantic love years ago and were both just trying to make it work. Made the arguments bigger and the apologies less sincere over time.”_

_“Why are you telling me this?”_

_“Because that’s how this works. I want to know you, so I have to share about me. Steps are steps. If you ask me questions, I’ll answer them. You asked what Ron would think of me being here, so you get the full story.”_

_“And what do you expect to get out of this? Are you just looking to pat yourself on the back for being nice to an outcast?”_

_“I want to see you put yourself back out into the world. I know your hesitation that night was brief, but it was there and I felt this overwhelming flicker of hope for you that you’d get away from them; away from your father—”_

_“Well I’d say him sitting in Azkaban for a lifetime is a good amount of distance.”_

_“Yes, I’d say so too,” she gave him a crooked smile, “But I remember thinking that I hoped you’d turn your life around and do something great."_

_“And instead, you find me here.”_

_“Here with all the potential in the world to still make it happen.”_

_“You’re obnoxiously positive.”_

_“Good. I think you need some of that.”_

_He looked at her for a few seconds, there was a decisiveness in her that made him feel like he was fighting a losing battle and that giving in would be the easiest choice, and the most applicable choice to get her to leave sooner so he could be with his thoughts, “Fine,” he finally said, “Fridays at seven o’clock. Don’t be late, I don’t like it when my time is wasted.”_

_“Because you’ve got so much other stuff going on,” she said wryly as she stood. The look of indignation on his face made her chuckle again, “Just seeing what you’re made of, Malfoy. I look forward to seeing you Friday.”_

_“The house elves will see you out,” he opened his book back up, ready to be done with their encounter and she left, a house elf named Allegra meeting her outside the door to walk her out to the gates._

_The first few months were uncomfortable. She’d come on Fridays and they’d mostly sit in silence, reading, or sometimes Hermione would bring paperwork from her job at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to complete, making small talk here and there where it was applicable. Eventually she’d hooked him with a conversation on Auror policy reform, which he seemed oddly knowledgeable on._

_“I have a lot of time to read and study things that interest me,” he said evasively as she’d honed in on his interest._

_“And you choose to study policy reform?”_

_“I like magical law. It’s the department I’d have gone into if… things were different. And yes policy reform is one of the more involved segments of the job, in my opinion. There’s structure, but flexibility, rules, but loopholes. Gives you the right amount of room to be progressive while maintaining order. Plus I like loopholes; something Slytherins are quite good at finding and exploiting.”_

_She tilted her head at him with interest, “Yes, it is, isn’t it. Have you ever considered applying to the Ministry?”_

_“Who would want a Malfoy working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? Seems a bit ironic, doesn’t it?”_

_“I don’t think so,” she shrugged casually._

_“Then you’re living in your own world.”_

_“I think people have moved forward from the war more than you let yourself believe.”_

_“That’s nice that they have that luxury. Some of us can’t just move forward from the things we were a part of.”_

_“Like what?” the transition had been almost too easy and he’d eyed her for a moment before conceding, leaning back in his chair and setting his book aside._

_“Like torture and murder, Granger. Is this the conversation you’ve been waiting to have?”_

_A chill ran down her spine at the bluntness of the statement. She’d been at his trial, but based on the severity of accusations towards each of the Death Eaters, charges in full had not been read to the room at large, but instead provided in written detail to the Wizengamot. Lucius had been sentenced to life in Azkaban for his willful participation in the Death Eaters, but it had been determined that Draco and Narcissa’s participation was due to persuasion from the patriarch of the family and threats of imminent harm if duties were not completed and they were exonerated, serving a year on house arrest and agreeing to donate a large sum of money to the war relief efforts._

_“It’s not a conversation I_ want _to have because I know it’s difficult for you, but I think it’s one we should have.”_

_“What do you want to know?”_

_“I just want to understand your perspective of how you ended up in the position you were in and how it affected you.”_

_“It’s just the life I was brought up to accept. It’s all I ever knew and I didn’t understand what it really meant, what it took, until it was too late. I thought I would feel powerful being a Death Eater but I felt quite the opposite. You want to understand how it affected me? Then let me give you some snipits of my experience in succession. The Dark Lord tasked me with killing the most powerful wizard that had ever lived on day one of joining them. I spent a year feebly sending cursed objects to Dumbledore hoping to just get it done while keeping my hands clean because I was terrified. When it came down to it in the end, I didn’t have it in me. I had him wandless and cornered and I couldn't say the words. Even if I had, I doubt it’d have worked. I realized on the Astronomy Tower that I’d have done anything to accept help and get away from the Death Eaters, and then the rest of them showed up and my opportunity was gone. And Dumbledore’s death was still my fault._

_“The Dark Lord sensed weakness after that and put me in progressively worse situations to test my loyalty. They put me face to face with one of our Hogwarts professors and they murdered her, I didn’t flinch because his eyes were on me but it broke something in me. She never needed to die. She wasn't the enemy, she was just a witch caught up in his twisted game of dominance. She was my professor, for Merlin's sake. And I realized there was no difference between her and myself. I was no better than her and I never had been. I realized that night the value of human life that had never quite been instilled in me. Her life was no lesser than mine. The pain and fear in her eyes cut into me like a knife and in that moment I wanted to trade places and spare her. But I couldn't, of course, that's not how that works. And so it was the second time I watched someone die and did nothing._

_"Everything changed for me after that. I wanted a way out and I voiced that to my mother, who all but cried and made me promise never to voice that sentiment again. She was scared and I knew why but if she hadn't felt the same as me, she'd have told my father and she didn't, just told me to put my head down and try to stay under The Dark Lord's radar. He still had his watch on me, though, and was determined to make me prove my loyalty. They had me torture Ollivander after that. And then down the line, they had me murder two Ministry workers. I never wanted to do it, but I showed weakness once more, with Ollivander, and they brought my mother into the room, threw her on the ground and told me it was Ollivander or her. You’d think it’d have still been a morally difficult choice, but it wasn’t after that. I’d never risk my mother’s life and from there on, I did what I was told. Not that it changes any part of my involvement, but I knew if it wasn’t me pointing my wand, it was going to be someone else in the room. I couldn’t have saved any of them. He’d have had no problem killing me too, I was just a pawn; we all were.”_

_“You weren’t given a simple choice, Draco,” she said softly, although the queasy look wasn’t quite subdued on her features. She hadn’t known he’d been a murderer._

_“No matter how you spin it, I’ve got blood on my hands that can’t be washed away. I have their faces etched in my head and their family members on my conscience.”_

_“Have you considered finding their families and apologizing? It might alleviate some of the weight you hold.”_

_“I deserve every ounce of this guilt,” he looked at her darkly, “I’m not looking for a way to deflect it.”_

_“Have you thought about the weight it might alleviate for them? To hear an apology and have some closure?”_

_He looked at her an extra second, “No, I hadn’t considered that.”_

_“Maybe you should.”_

_They’d made a plan after, looking up Ministry names and eventually finding the families of those he’d been assigned to. She’d accompanied him, standing back a step as he’d knocked on each of their doors, respectively and looked them in the eyes to apologize. One had slammed the door in his face with a shower of expletives, and the other had broken down crying, pulling him into a tight hug and thanking him for giving them the answer to a question they’d held for years and the closure of an apology for the loss they’d endured._

_She’d returned to the manor with him where he’d had a breakdown of his own that had included the destruction of a few crystal decanters and the first bout of tears she’d witnessed. He’d grabbed something from a cabinet and before she could process what it was, he’d downed it; potions — he had a cabinet full of illicit potions. He’d collapsed against the wall, his body shaking with the after effects of that potion in particular until he became quite still, the angry tears subsiding and his eyes blanking as he stared across the room, numb to the pain for a little while. She’d slid down the wall, still a bit shocked at how quickly it had all happened, but she sat there with him, her words trembling, but reassuring and optimistic as silent tears ran down her own cheeks at what she was seeing, the heaviness of his regret hovering over both of them._

The fire crackled and Draco shook his head a little, taking a deep breath at that memory as he looked back at the doorway to Hermione’s bedroom where he heard a soft sigh and a creak of the bed as she shifted, but it didn’t seem to wake her. He was glad for it, as much as he’d have liked the company, she deserved the undisturbed rest she got for all the things she did for him day in and day out.

O-o-o-o-o-o-o


	2. Part II: Love

Draco refocused on the flames as he leaned forward on the couch to feel the heat a little more, letting his mind fall back on the past again as he thought about how their relationship had changed after Hermione had been there to witness one of his bad nights.

_He’d woken up the next morning on the couch in the den, blinking his eyes open to see Hermione curled in the armchair across from him. He had a blanket over him and he assumed she’d transfigured something into the cozy pillow his head was burrowed into. He’d sat up, folding the blanket and setting it aside as he leaned back, trying to figure out what to say to her until she’d stretched, looking around and seeing him looking back at her. He’d apologized for his behavior, but admitted that the potions were something he used as a coping mechanism. It wasn’t often, but it wasn’t uncommon, and she’d suggested that the next time he felt the need for it to owl her and let her be there to try and talk him down before he resorted to them. He’d agreed, though neither of them knew if he meant it._

_She’d continued her visits as normal after that with no interruption, much to his surprise, thinking surely he’d have scared her off for at least a few weeks with his antics, but she’d shown up the next Friday at precisely seven as she always did. He’d found himself slowly relaxing in her presence with her show of unwavering support at an undeniably low moment, feeling the walls around him crumbling with every smile she flashed at him and every laugh that met his ears. He didn’t know what she enjoyed about spending time with him, but he could tell, undeniably, that she enjoyed the time all the same. She was kind and compassionate and just as smart as everyone gave her credit for. Perhaps she appreciated that he was also a self-driven learner who could challenge her intellectually, or maybe she just liked that her wit never went unanswered. But they’d connected somewhere along the way and that connection only seemed to be getting stronger and easier._

_She’d started hugging him before she’d leave and at first he’d stood there rigidly, unsure how to react at the show of affection he’d felt seldom in his life, but his rigidness had softened into a cordial pat on the back and, after half a year or so of their weekly routine, they’d found themselves embracing for minutes at a time by the door to the den, finishing whatever conversation they’d been having, sometimes meaning for it to be a quick hug only for one of them to heave a long sigh and settle in. It was a kind of embrace that warmed his whole body._

_And before he could make heads or tails of it, he found himself looking forward to the days she’d spend with him at the manor. She brought a lightness to his life that he’d never experienced quite so genuinely. She’d made him laugh for the first time in years with a story about Harry being tangled up by an octopus when responding to a house call. An older wizard had owled in about a noise coming from the attic that they thought might be a stow-away ghoul. Instead, it was a prank pulled by his young neighbor, who thought it’d be funny to transfigure one of his rickety old chairs into an octopus — an octopus that very much did not want to be cooped up in an attic._

_One night, closing in on eight or nine months of their arrangement, Draco had woken up from another nightmare, which led him down a path of letting the memories of the war slip in as he felt himself getting progressively more anxious and angry. He’d made his way to the den and opened his cabinet, but paused, staring at the bottle longingly before Hermione’s words echoed in his ears and he closed the door again, hand lingering on the knob and breath heavy; a stinging sensation stuck behind his eyes. He stepped back with all the strength he could muster and grabbed a spare bit of parchment and a quill, scrawling a short message as his head screamed opposing arguments at him that were getting too hard to shut out._

_“Come on, Draco,” he muttered to himself, “Don’t fucking lose it.”_

_He refocused on the parchment:_

**_It’s been a bad night and I’m on the verge of numbing it all again. I told you I’d write, so I am. I know it’s late, I’ll do my best to fight it._ **

**_-D_ **

_He’d shooed off his owl with the note and set himself across the room, trying to practice some of the breathing exercises and mindfulness practices from the book Hermione had brought him after the first incident she’d witnessed. He thought it was a little silly, but it was something to focus on. After a while, though, he couldn’t ignore the tightness in his chest or the heaviness in the air surrounding him. He stood, shakily, knowing he was taking a step back but unable to bat down the feelings any longer as flashes of screams played through his head. He opened the cabinet door again and grabbed a bottle down, looking at it with another deep breath before he uncorked it and lifted it to his lips. His eyes closed as he accepted his fate for the night, but before he could tip it back, a loud chime rang through the manor and he felt a rush of relief surge through him as he brought the bottle back from his lips and recorked it. He held it tightly in his hand as he took another steadying breath before he set it down, turning and heading for the door where a breathless Hermione Granger stood on the other side, throwing herself into his arms._

_“I thought I’d be too late,” she whispered._

_“You were right on time,” he soaked in her warm embrace, holding her to him gratefully before they parted and she walked with him back to the den, assuring Narcissa along the way that everything was fine as she hurried down the stairs in her nightrobes to see what the commotion was about. Upon seeing Hermione, she’d smiled, understanding that if she was there, there was good reason, and she’d made her way back up to bed. Draco had told her that his mother knew he had his demons, but that she didn’t know the extent of how he coped with them. She tried to help, but didn’t know how._

_They’d settled onto the couch that evening and he’d relayed his dreams, letting himself feel the things he tried to suppress as she reminded him that she wasn’t there to judge and that the things he was experiencing were natural. She’d told him she was proud of him for reaching out to her and she’d squeezed his hand in hers._

_There had been other times, however, where he didn’t message her; where the feelings and regret were so overwhelming that rationality was out the window and there were no second thoughts at the cabinet. He’d tell her, though, the next time he saw her. He may not have been proud of it, but he’d tell her. She’d look disappointed, but she’d squeeze his hand all the same, reminding him that he was on a journey and there would occasionally be setbacks, but to keep going and try to remember this feeling the next time to facilitate making the right choice._

_They’d gotten to know each other more with each visit and with time their visits became more frequent, and sometimes she’d find herself at the manor all weekend. They’d found comfort in their fluid conversation over shared interests as well as the unwavering support system they’d developed where no subject felt off limits. They formed a friendship of sorts that ran deep; built on a foundation of openness with each other; a precedent Hermione had set on her first visit that Draco had done his best to adhere to as she chipped away at the remaining walls surrounding him._

_He’d met her at the door with wine one evening, claiming that he thought it might be somewhere around the one year mark of their reconnection. He was feeling unusually bright as he’d poured her a glass, settling onto the couch, and delved into a story of a trip he’d taken as a child to the particular region of France where the wine he’d found for tonight was made. He didn’t usually talk about his past, but if he sifted through all the fog, he did have a story or two that didn't have reservations tied to it. She’d leaned into his good mood, goading him for details on his excursions and responding admirably to his smart humor that evening. And as they’d stood at the door, arms wrapped around the other and heads resting contentedly against each other, Draco felt the urge to do something that seemed outrageous in his own mind, but his head was loose tonight and the way her hand was rubbing slowly up and down his back was putting thoughts into it that he couldn’t ignore._

_He’d pulled back, arms still securely in place as she leaned back to look up at him, an easy smile on her features._

_“Can I tell you something,” he said rhetorically in a low voice._

_“Mmhmm.”_

_“I like having you around, Granger.”_

_“Oh really?” She quipped, her smile broadening._

_“I think so,” he nodded with a grin, “I mean for someone who all but forced herself into my life, this could have been much worse.”_

_“You certainly know how to compliment a girl.”_

_He chuckled, taking in the way the light was reflecting in her gaze, “You look beautiful tonight,” the words were smooth but it was clear he meant it, “There’s an extra spark in your eyes.”_

_“It’s from you,” she said, her cheeks flushing even as she kept her look cool, “It’s from seeing you happy.”_

_“I think I am happy. I don’t know the feeling well, but this seems like it.”_

_“It looks good on you.”_

_His lip pulled up just a little more and without thinking, he’d leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. It was quick, but time felt like it stopped as their eyes met again._

_“Sorry was that… out of line?” He asked, unsure what in the world had made him push the boundaries of their friendship when it had become the only constant in his life._

_She looked taken aback but only hesitated another moment before she pulled him back down to her and captured his lips more fully. His entire body ignited at her touch and he knew any hope of retaining a platonic friendship between them was out of the question. Her kiss was a drug he’d never encountered and it made the whole world fade away, but in bliss, not numbness._

_He could tell from her momentary hesitance that she had never planned to fall for him, but from her kiss, there was no denying it. Sometimes these things happen in the pockets of time you’re not paying attention to; during a story that pulls at your heart; a light sigh across the room that makes you inexplicably smile; a look that makes the time pause; a shared secret that highlights the trust between you; an accidental brush of the arm that sends chills down your back; an ear that’s there to listen when you really needed one. It happens as an accumulation of little moments that all of a sudden become the most important thing in the world. And although he had his bad moments, he knew the connection they’d formed was not one sided._

_He could tell that he provided a lot of the support and comfort to her that she provided to him, in a different way. He’d never understand the things she’d been through in the war, but he listened and he asked the right questions. He’d listen to her work conundrums and she’d laugh at the end, thanking him for acting interested since Harry and Ron couldn’t care less to hear about the ongoings of her department, but he thought that was silly; she always had really intriguing cases. And he knew that of anything else, he could challenge her in a way that he was sure others couldn’t and she liked that. He wasn’t a push over and he wasn’t going to take everything she said at face value. Though it might be annoying at times, she admired that about him. They could have in-depth discussions with lively arguments on exact figures and facts. He definitely saw the spark he lit in her, even if it didn’t feel like it was enough to be deserving of her._

_After their first acknowledgment of the feelings between them, they’d begun exploring a new side of their relationship, one that had brought some of the happiest, easiest moments of his life, but one that was not free from the demons that clung on inside of him, and one that was not free of relapse from time to time. But she stuck by his side through it all, talking him down when she could, holding him and getting him onto the couch, if she’d been too late, and trying to keep their conversations open and honest so he could work through the things that triggered his response to go for the cabinet. He could tell she really believed that he would find the strength to fight the need to numb the pain with time and a little discipline. He wanted to believe it, too. Until then, however, he kept the cabinet locked to anyone but himself, knowing that if the day did come that he decided he didn’t need it, it would truly be his decision and not someone else’s. But there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t make his appreciation for her, and everything she brought to his life, known in one little way or another. She’d brought out a side of him he hadn’t even known he’d had buried inside; one that was humble and grateful and had finally found something in life to care about._

_She’d persuaded him to apply to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement another few months later where he’d taken a desk job researching new cases. He enjoyed the work; it was challenging and distracting, yet something about the monotony of an office job sent him into a new kind of spiral some nights._

_His coworkers were nice enough, Hermione of course being one of them, though much higher up in the ranks than he was. But he got looks from some, and then there were some who blatantly refused to speak or work with him. He almost admired them for it because he felt it was warranted. Weasley was one of the Aurors who refused to work with him when their departments teamed up on certain things, though Potter seemed to go out of his way to say hi or invite him to lunch, which he declined as often as he appropriately could without being rude. It’s not that he didn’t like Potter, he just couldn’t help but feel like a charity case, even after they realized how much they had in common and formed their own kind of friendship. It was a friendship that was difficult for him to accept with their past, much like Hermione’s had been in the beginning. Hermione tried to bring him to group functions as well, but there was something in his head that wouldn't let him enjoy them; something that was constantly on the swivel waiting for someone to tell him he wasn’t welcome._

_He knew his problems were partially fabricated in his own mind, but it didn’t make them any easier to ignore because there was still truth to them to a degree. It was all part of why he’d tried to shut himself off years ago, because it was just easier to be alone and miserable than to try and build a life for himself, no matter how hard Hermione tried to help._

“Draco?” The living room light turned on with the flick of her wand and Draco pulled his eyes from the fireplace.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, just checking on you. I rolled over and you weren’t there,” she took the seat next to him on the couch, leaning her head on his shoulder, “You doing okay?”

“Just a bad dream,” he said, turning back to the fireplace as thoughts of the past started to dissipate and her presence kept him rooted to reality.

“Do you want a cappuccino?”

“You should get some sleep,” he said with a sigh, enjoying the warmth of her body beside his, but knowing it wasn’t fair of him to keep her from resting.

“You don’t look like you’re going back to bed anytime soon,” she looked him over thoughtfully.

“No, probably not.”

“Then I’m not either,” she said matter-of-factly, “I’m going to make cappuccino,” she leaned up and kissed him softly before she pushed herself off the couch and wandered into the kitchen.

He watched after her with a crooked smile, grateful that she knew when he needed her, even if he couldn’t say it.

_[[ I keep doing that thing where I'm thinking again_

_I got skeletons in my closet_

_I got nightmares sleeping again_

_I gave you my heart you lost it_

_She's a girl from a small town_

_But we're in the big city and she's in my passenger seat right now_

_'Cause we live in a small world_

_I told her, "It's all yours_

_But I need to know if you're down"_

_I can't help it (I can't help it)_

_Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah ]]_

O-o-o-o-o-o-o


	3. Part III: Lost

Not that nightmares were particularly foreign to Draco, but something about that one had shaken him. It’d been a dream about Ollivander; he was eleven again and in the man’s wand shop. Ollivander was explaining the different wand properties and how they could be best used to torture him later on. Draco had repeatedly told the man that he had no intention of using his wand against him but Ollivander had laughed jovially, telling him he could sense great peril for himself from the wand that had chosen Draco. He'd woken up to piercing screams as his dream fast forwarded years into the future to a scene where he was standing over a writhing Ollivander with his wand pointed at the feeble, beaten man while he held tears back behind his own eyes; forced to stay emotionless and cold.

Aside from the dream, the whole night had stuck in his head. It’d been a while since he’d let his mind wander back on some of the details of their early days and he felt a renewed selfishness for putting his burdens onto Hermione just to feel loved.

He’d gone through the motions of the next few days, accepting one of Potter’s intermittent lunch invitations where they talked casually about the new broomsticks the Auror department finally found room in the budget to purchase and Potter relayed some of the milestones James had hit, like saying his first words and breaking his first glass accidentally in a temper tantrum, which he and Ginny had celebrated as his first sign of magical abilities. 

Draco had mentioned a trip he and Hermione had been talking about planning to see Scotland and Harry had looked at him with a twinkle in his eye, asking if there was any special occasion he had planned for the trip when it happened. With his guilt for their relationship fresh on his mind, Draco had responded with an uncomfortable attempt at a grin and reminded Harry that they’d really only been dating for two years.

“Sorry, didn’t think that’d be an uncomfortable question, I got the sense early on that this was something long-term for both of you,” Harry said, setting his empty butterbeer glass aside.

“Our relationship has always been serious, yes, and of course we romanticize what a future would be like together,” Draco said heavily, “But I’m sure eventually she’ll be ready to move on with her life separately.”

“Move on to what?” Harry said incredulously, “That girl loves you more than she loves reading.”

“Still can’t imagine why.”

Harry tilted his head at him, picking up on his shift in mood, “Maybe you bring a perspective to her life that she needs. You’re well read and traveled which meshes with her interests, but your lives couldn’t be more different and I think she loves the exchange of experiences and knowledge she can share with you. She says you bring a certain spark to her life.”

Draco took a long sip from his glass to avoid a sarcastic quip as he gathered his thoughts, “You Gryffindors sure know how to spin tragedy into triumph.”

“It’s a blessing and a curse.”

His conversation with Harry that afternoon had caused a hundred more questions to start making their way unceremoniously through his head. They’d been together two years now, they were twenty-five, he should be thinking about their future more seriously. Not that he didn’t think about it, he truly couldn’t imagine his life without her, but to ask her to solidify her commitment to walking down the dark road he walked himself every day felt like he was condemning her. His best chance of happiness was to spend his life with her, and her best chance at happiness was for him to let her go. 

She already got stares when they were in public together, which he didn’t like to do often. She got cryptic suggestions from coworkers and superiors to consider how her personal life might look as she continued to progress in her career, if that was important to her. Their relationship had created a rift between her and some of her friends, Ron included. Not that she didn’t still hang out with her group of Ministry friends, but Ron wouldn’t be in a room with Draco, and the tension was apparent when it did happen. How could he, in good conscience, ever let their relationship move forward? How could he put his own wants ahead of what was best for her life? He couldn’t.

He’d settled back into his desk that afternoon and looked around at the desks surrounding him; at the people milling about their jobs, getting opinions on possible hearing outcomes and trading tips on filing organization. His hand clenched subconsciously into a first as the insignificance of it all hit him. He didn’t belong here with any of them. He didn’t deserve a quiet life of honest work. He deserved to be in Azkaban, or at least shut up in the manor where he couldn’t ruin anyone’s day just at the sight of him.

“Malfoy, have you got the Belby file? Malfoy?”

A finger snapped somewhere in the distance and Draco pulled his eyes from the pair of laughing coworkers by the water cooler, registering Susan standing by his Desk, “Sorry, Bones, must have dazed out for a moment.”

“Have you got the Belby file?” She asked again, looking mildly concerned.

He pointed his wand at the shelves behind his desk, summoning one of the top files and handing it to her, “Just bring it back when you’re done, I’ve got a few things to look into.”

“Will do. Thanks again for putting this together.”

He nodded and then looked back down at the file in front of him, trying to focus, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Susan stop into Hermione’s office just for a few seconds and he knew what was coming. He read the same sentence again as he tried to keep his frustration in check.

“Hi Draco,” Hermione said brightly as she walked over, as he knew she would, “Do you want to grab a coffee across the street?”

“I’m kind of busy,” he said evasively, not feeling like he needed to be babysat as some of his coworkers seemed to think he did sometimes.

“Everything alright?” She asked, leaning against the side of his desk.

“Never better.”

“Draco,” she said pointedly and he sighed as he flipped the page in his file, “Susan said you seemed distracted.”

“Just a lot going on today.”

“At work or in your mind?” she said in a quieter voice.

He looked up at her with a tinge of annoyance, “Can we not do this here?”

“Granger,” Roger Davies called as he popped his head out of his office down the hall, scanning the room and landing on her by Draco, “Need your opinion on something if you’ve got a minute.”

“Sure, I’ll be right in,” she said with a smile as he ducked back into his office and she turned back to Draco, “Alright well I guess we’ll talk at home.”

He’d been able to refocus eventually and gotten through his to-do list for the day before he packed up and returned to Hermione’s flat where he’d make dinner while she finished her work for the day. She always stayed a few hours later, but he hadn’t been surprised in the least by that information when she’d first explained her schedule. When she stepped out of the fireplace at eight that evening, he put on the best grin he could and walked into the living room, two plates of fresh marinated pork chops in his hands.

“I’ve made your favorite tonight.”

“Sounds suspect,” Hermione narrowed her eyes playfully at him as she hung her bag on the hook by the door and followed him to the kitchen, where he was setting the plates on the table.

She intercepted him on his way back to the counter, slinging her arms around his neck and planting a solid kiss on his lips with a contented sigh. His hands caught her hips and he gave in without protest as they slipped around her back.

“Did you miss me during your overtime hours?” He quipped between kisses and she flicked her eyes mischievously up at him as her hands found their way to his tie, running up and down the silky fabric.

“I finally closed my files because I couldn’t stop thinking about getting home to you,” her words were sweet but laced with intention.

“Fantasizing about me, you mean? Perhaps about me showing back up to the office to see if you could help me with a case, only to seduce you on your desk?” 

She laughed, accepting that he wanted to keep the mood light for now, “I guess I’ll be thinking about that tomorrow.”

“Well then before you tell me what you _were_ thinking about, how about we sit down to dinner so it doesn’t get cold.”

“Alright,” she allowed, pulling him to her by the tie for another kiss before she went to take her seat. He grabbed two glasses of wine from the counter and joined her. 

Conversation was casual that evening, though there was an underlying tension as Draco tried to tiptoe around any mention of his distraction that afternoon and Hermione tried to tiptoe back to it. Finally, dinner was cleared and as sponges scrubbed the plates in the sink, Hermione grabbed his hand again.

“Want to join me in the other room?”

He sighed, seeing the resolution in her features that it was time to talk, wishing he could savor the moments of calm a bit longer, “Alright.”

As they settled onto the couch, Hermione turned towards him, her arm propping her up against the back of the couch, “So what was going on today?”

He sat silently for a few seconds, debating how much he wanted to get into it, but knowing that their relationship was built on trust and he had to try and let her in, “Do ever think about our future?”

“All the time,” she smiled, perhaps thinking this conversation was headed in a different direction.

“What do you see in a future together?”

She reached over and covered his hand with hers, picking up on the sad tone in his voice, “Passionate, supportive, unquestionable love.” 

“What about the things you would be giving up to spend your life with me?”

“I haven’t given up anything, Draco, I just get _you_ and everything you bring to my life. I get every stimulating conversation, every fiery glance, every smart-ass remark,” her lip quirked up and a huff emitted from him as he nodded, “I wish you could see the value you add to my life.”

“But what about what I take away? What about the career opportunities you could lose being a Malfoy? What about the respect I automatically call into question when people see you with me? What about the easy nights I destroy with my own vices?”

“But you’ve come so far,” she said reassuringly, “It’s been months now since one of your - you know - setbacks.”

“It’s not a setback, it’s a relapse. Call it what it is. And it shouldn't just be months,” he cut her off, “It’s something you should never have had to see in your life. I’m a constant and unpredictable liability to you.”

“Draco,” she cupped his face for a moment to recenter his focus before the back of her fingers brushed across his cheek. She kept her tone soothing, “Think of how much you’ve grown in the last three years. Think of where you were then and all the things you’ve accomplished since. You can’t tell me you haven’t made progress in leaps and bounds. And this is only the beginning.”

“But I’m never going to be able to look back and erase the things I wish I could erase.”

“No, you’re not,” she said simply, “But you can look at everything you’ve done to make amends. You can point to the hours of volunteer work you’ve done with the Muggle Liaison office, and the invaluable part you played in helping me get the Ministry’s Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare committee off the ground, and what about the foundation you started for the families of fallen wizards lost in the war earlier this year? Wizarding Warriors has already provided so much to the community.”

“Most, if not all, of those things were facilitated by you,” he sighed, “What have I really done.”

“That’s not true, you just don’t like taking credit for things,” she smiled softly at him, “Yes, S.P.E.W. was my brain child, but the other two were your ideas. All I did was provide some connections and help develop plans. You have no idea how rewarding it’s been watching you grow and find new ways to give back. You’re an incredibly thoughtful and intention-driven man. You _care_ to be better and it shows.”

“And yet it never feels like enough,” his eyes met hers and the look behind them was heart wrenching.

“ _You_ are enough,” she searched his gaze but found it guarded, like it was sealing itself off to her; something she hadn’t seen in it in a long time.

“I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to agree with that.”

“Are you happy with me, Draco?” She asked uncertainly.

“You are my sole source of happiness.”

“I’m happy with you, too,” the words held confidence, but also an urgency of concern as though she knew he needed to hear that, “I love you for everything you are, but sometimes I feel like I’m losing you.”

He huffed out some version of a sarcastic laugh, “Losing me to whom?”

“To yourself.”

_[[ I did this all for you_

_Look what I turned into_

_She looked dead in my eyes and she saw nothing inside_

_I did this all for you_

_Look what I turned into_

_She looked dead in my eyes and she saw nothing inside ]]_

_O-o-o-o-o-o-o_


	4. Part IV: Longing

Draco had found himself subconsciously continuing down the path his mind was on over the next few weeks, the clarity of the burdens he brought into Hermione’s life only becoming more prominent with each concerned look she held when she thought he wasn’t looking, and the tightness in his chest feeling like it was gripping a little harder each day from the suffocating acceptance that he’d never be free of his mistakes. And it was all compounded by the guilt he held of feeling like he was wasting Hermione’s time on a hopeless case. Whatever potential she saw in him was never going to come to fruition.

It was getting harder to focus at work and he felt himself pulling away from Hermione and thinking more regularly about taking some time back at the manor. It’s not like he really lived with her, anyway, so he wasn’t leaving, per se. But it’s also not like he didn’t spend most of his time at her flat, including moving half a closet full of work clothes in, upon her recommendation, keeping the refrigerator and household supplies stocked as she repeatedly rejected his offer to pay for her rent, and helping her to hang photos of them around the walls. His own personal items wouldn’t be much to clear out, though, if he needed to.

One weekend, shortly after they arrived back to her flat from The Three Broomsticks, Hermione finally confronted him about the changes she’d seen. It wasn’t unusual for him to go in and out of his down moods, but he knew she could tell that this was different. 

“You know, one of the things I’ve always appreciated about our relationship is that even if things are tough, we’re in it together,” she said casually as she blew on her cappuccino, leaning in the doorway of the kitchen, watching him stare into the fire from the couch, “I know there’s a lot going on in your head, but I don’t feel like you’re letting me in on it.”

He closed his eyes for a moment before looking back at her and trying to soften his features from the thoughts that had been running through his head in his moments of quiet solitude with the fire, “I’m not trying to keep you out.”

“Well, then you could tell me what you’re thinking. It’s nerve wracking to know there’s something wrong and watch you give me a disconnected half smile as though it’ll reassure me that you’re alright. You can trust me, I’m here to support you.”

He paused at her blunt call out of his disingenuous expression, the guilt of the truth of it slipping in again, “Doesn’t it get tiring, though? Doesn’t it wear on you that you’re in a constant state of pins and needles with me?”

“It’s not constant,” she said, “It’s just when you get in your head, and I can tell you are right now. And even then we can usually talk through it, but you’re not talking.”

“Maybe I am just out of things to say,” the words fell out as his head turned slowly back to the fire.

She felt a piercing silence fill her mind and a shiver ran inexplicably down her spine, “What does that mean, Draco?”

He shook his head as the flames danced wickedly in front of his eyes, mimicking the anger he held inside him as the weight of his unfiltered words settled in on him as well, “It… it means I don’t know if I have the fight in me right now to battle myself. All of the guilt and the frustration and the feelings of insignificance.”

“But you don’t have to do it alone,” her voice was shaking slightly, unnerved by what she was hearing.

“Hermione,” his head fell and he let out a heavy sigh of release, “Something in me felt like it extinguished a few weeks ago.”

“Then let’s find a way to reignite it,” she walked towards him, leaving her cup on the coffee table as she bent down beside him, “I’m not going to just give up on you.”

“You should, though. You should have given up on me a long time ago.” 

She grabbed his hand gently, but he pulled away, his thoughts snowballing as they derailed from their inner tracks.

“Draco, please...” 

He knew there were tears in her eyes, but he didn’t dare look over at her, “I’m going to go back to the manor.”

“For… the night?”

“For a while.”

“You don’t have to,” she whispered, “There’s no reason we can’t work through this.”

“I could give you a whole list, actually,” he bit, “But that won’t be necessary since you’d just pretend everything is unicorns and rainbows anyway. Life is not as easy as you make it seem and talking about things doesn’t make them go away.”

Draco stood, walking into the bedroom and grabbing a bag from the closet that he began directing items into with his wand as Hermione processed what he was saying, following him a few steps behind.

She tried to change his mind, pleading with him that he was making a rash decision and that he needed to just clear his mind and distract himself from the darkness clouding his judgment. There was always a way forward, she reassured him, he just couldn’t see past the roadblock. But her attempts to rationalize were deflected by the walls that had materialized around him and before she knew it, he was walking out the door, apologizing, but not looking back. She yelled into the night for him to come back but in a pop, he was gone.

The days that followed took him further down his spiral at the manor. He’d sent an owl of resignation to his boss at work, apologizing for the short notice but articulating that it would be effective immediately. Hermione had sent a few messages, but he’d directed the parchment straight into the fireplace and shooed her owl away, not feeling ready to face what he’d done or read another word of her trying to change his mind. Narcissa had tried to coax the details of why he was home out of him after he’d requested that she turn Hermione away when she came looking for him. But he’d sufficiently shut his mother out as well, reminding her that although he may be home, he was still an adult she was not entitled to the details of his private matters. She’d never been great at finding a way past his walls; just accepted that it was something he did when he needed space. She cared of course, but didn’t quite realize the severity of his self-destructive ways.

He’d made it four days, four long, maddening days of overthinking, before he’d gone for the potions cabinet. And then things took a turn for the worse. He’d put in years of work and discipline to limit the times he gave in, but without Hermione to support him and without his normal routine to distract him, it all became part of his coping habits again. He was angry at himself for the last two years of living in a fairy tale. For letting himself believe, for a second, that there could be more to his life than rotting away at the manor with his regrets and material possessions. The longer he was away from Hermione, the less deserving of her time he felt and the more angry he found himself with _her_ for putting those fabricated expectations of what life could be into his head. He’d been perfectly fine, sort of, before she’d arrived at his doorstep, able to get by at least without knowing what else he could have. But having those things didn’t feel right either.

One night, months later, he’d shown up to her flat late into the night. He was drunk on firewhiskey, but not on potions, and she’d flung her arms around his neck and cried, thinking he was back for good. But she’d been wrong. She’d noticed, of course, that he wasn’t in his right mind and she’d led him to the bed, wrapping her arm around him as he apologized over and over again for the burdens he’d brought upon her and eventually they’d fallen asleep there, where she had, no doubt, looked forward to the sober conversation they could have in the morning. But he’d been gone before she’d ever woken up, returning back to the manor to repent for his weakness that brought her back into his mess of a life.

She’d bombarded him with owls again over the next few weeks that he’d thoroughly ignored. From there, the cycle began again of self-destruction, followed by a visit late in the night to her flat. He’d caught her in her own unusual state of drunk one night, an empty bottle of wine next to her couch as she answered the door in a tee-shirt and a tear-stained face and it had only taken moments before he was pulled inside and he had her back against the door as they both gave in to something they’d missed for too long now.

But the next morning was similar. He was still there when she woke up, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed looking blankly across the room. She’d reached out for him, but as her hand touched his arm, he’d jumped. She tried to talk to him, but he’d barely been listening as he’d quickly moved off the bed and collected his things from the ground, apologizing again for his intrusion and leaving before she could even find a shirt to throw on.

It’d been almost a year now since their conversation by the fireplace in the comforts of a place they called home together and he found himself in the same place; Still beating himself up over the things he had that he didn’t deserve and the life he led now of isolation and darkness. At least when he was with Hermione there were days when he would smile. He’d seen her seven times since the night he walked out, each time was after midnight and each time he’d left without resolution the next morning. He knew it had to stop, he couldn’t keep upending her life whenever his altered mind decided it needed to see her again. 

There was nothing more productive to say, but it did ease the pain at least for a short moment. It probably didn’t help that she let him in every time. Sure, sometimes she was angry and sometimes she was sad, but she missed him and no matter how wrong it was to allow him a prize for his self-destruction, she couldn’t help but give in because she still loved him. He could see it, without question, in her eyes. She knew the right thing to do would be to turn him away, but the lines of love weren’t cut and dry like that. This was unchartered territory. She still believed in him, as silly as that was, so of course she’d hope that every time he’d show up, something would be different. Though unless she was drunk, herself, it led to nothing more than a cuddle in bed together.

She got another opportunity, though, when he stumbled to her front door again one night, needing to remember the feeling of her touch and the contours of her body that were starting to fade from his memories.

“Draco, what are you doing here?” she asked harshly, her own glazed over eyes, tired from another empty bottle of wine, glossing over his disheveled appearance.

“I can’t stay away,” his eyes burned with intensity. He looked mad, at himself probably, but there was longing there too, for her.

She crossed her arms, unbelieving that he’d woken her up at two in the morning to pull this again, “You left,” she said, pain evident in her words. She was getting sick of this game; who could blame her, she had her shit together and he was a disaster.

“I know I fucking did. But you know it wasn’t because I don’t love you.”

“You can’t just show up here whenever you feel like it and drag me back into your internal battle. I gave you everything I had and it wasn’t enough.”

He stared at her, mouth opening as he tried to process her words, “Not enough? You think anything you ever did wasn’t enough _for me_? Granger it was too much. I never deserved a second of your time.”

“And yet here you are, taking more of it with nothing to offer in return,” her eyes stung as the words fell from her lips, it was blunt, but he needed to accept the fact that he’d walked away from her and the future she’d wanted with him; from everything they’d worked together to build. He needed a nice dose of reality to go along with whatever potions he was already on. A bottle of wine was nothing compared to that.

“I never _had_ anything to offer you. You fabricated all of that in your own mind. This unrealistic version of me where I wasn’t broken beyond repair.”

“But you came so far,” she said with a shake of her head as compassion overtook the edge in her voice at his statement.

“It doesn’t matter how far up I climb, I’m always going to fall back down. That’s how this cycle works. None of it matters, in the end, because I can’t change the past.”

She paused, feeling the tears behind her eyes trying to push through with the pain of his words, “What do you want from me Draco, why are you here?”

“Because I miss you. All the time. I can’t get you out of my head and I just… had to see you.”

“And now what?”

“And now I’d like to kiss you one more time.”

“ _Why_? Why do you keep doing this to us.”

“Because I’m always going to love you no matter how much I know I can’t. I try to stay away but you’re like a fucking drug.”

“Don’t you have enough of those already, why do you need me on top of everything else you hurt yourself with?”

“Because you’re the only thing that actually takes it all away for a little while,” he took a step forward, his voice quiet but articulate, “The potions, they numb it, but you, one taste of you, one look into your eyes and all the pain goes away and I feel fucking _free._ ”

She looked up at him, unable to find any kind of appropriate response. All she wanted was for him to be free of his burdens. That’s all she’d _ever_ wanted.

He reached out and grabbed her hand as her arms uncrossed, still unmoving from her spot. With that as an answer all its own, he closed the gap between them and pressed his lips softly against hers. She’d expected it to be a bit messy, with his state of mind, but it wasn’t; it was just as calculated as it had always been; needy, yet confident, the same way her brain always replayed it when she’d close her eyes at night. She felt a tear break its wall and fall quietly down her cheek as she stepped back, pulling him inside with her and letting the door close. 

Before she could even consider her next move, her back was against the adjacent wall and she was lifted off the ground, legs wrapping around his waist as his tongue slipped into her mouth to graze softly against hers. A moan escaped her lips, somewhere between a whimper of sadness from the time she’d spent out of his embrace and a sigh of bliss to be connected again. This wouldn’t seem like a good idea in the morning, but every thought in her mind had all but vanished instantaneously. Every ounce of anger she held towards him was concentrated into passion and her fingers entangled themselves in his hair. She’d missed every bit of this, as he had.

“I love you,” he whispered between kisses, pulling her shirt over her head, pleased to see nothing underneath at this time of night.

“I love you, too,” it was barely audible and her voice broke slightly at the end, but they were just words at this point, words that had never even needed to be spoken. Nothing could ever come between the love they had for each other. Not even his self-destructive antics.

Draco’s shirt hit the ground and he held her tighter against him as he moved from the wall, stumbling a little from the darkness surrounding them in the living room and the swirling of his head from a mixture of potions and firewhiskey. He followed the light in the doorway to her room and pushed it open, kicking it shut behind him with his leg as his lips found hers again. A single lantern guided them to the center of the room.

Bottoms were discarded as he dropped her on the edge of the bed, his lips going immediately for the sensitive spot on her neck and sucking gently at the soft skin, breathy sighs grazing his ear as his hands finally got to roam freely, “Please, Draco. I need you tonight.”

As though he’d needed any more stimulation, the verbal confirmation that she wanted what he did drove him to the next level of longing. As his lips reconnected with hers, he felt her fingers tracing down his chest slowly, in a way that she knew would drive him crazy. She liked to make him wait for it; It was a game of patience. But that’s not what he came here for tonight. They didn’t have time for nuances of patience and games. He grabbed her hand from his chest and lifted it over her head as she lay back, not at all opposed to bypassing the niceties. He interlaced their fingers as he kissed her deeply once more before he righted himself and positioned himself between her legs.

“Look at me,” he said in a voice that teetered on authoritative and pleading. Her eyes fluttered open and he looked down at the only girl who had ever made him understand real love. Her cheeks were pink and her breath was heavy; her hair was sprawled haphazardly over the bedspread and her eyes were full of the same passion he felt. She nodded at him as she mouthed the word _please_ again and he pushed forward as her back arched into him with another soft moan. He worked his way in slowly, much more slowly than he thought he'd have the restraint for, until he was surrounded by her.

He paused a moment, eyes closing, logging this feeling in his memory and hoping the potions wouldn't wipe it away when he woke up tomorrow. Her hand tightened around his upper arm as she pulled herself up to him, kissing across his shoulder and drawing him from his thoughts with a vibrating sigh that emitted from somewhere in his throat. She leaned back and their eyes locked; lustful, but tender. He pulled out again slowly, hands finding a secure grip on her hips, and slid into her one more time as their lips came together again, his tongue slipping welcomingly in to meet hers as her breath filled his lungs with a sharp exhale. He started to increase his speed in time with their elevating heart rates as her head tilted to the side, surrendering to the moment and relishing every sensation. His lips found whatever part of her he could reach, her composure breaking as her moans mixed with his own, infusing the air with their unique song of euphoria. Her skin was warm under his touch and her hair heavy with heat as his hand moved into it, balling it into his fist, though trying not to be too rough with her for their first time together in so long. This was not a night for a romp, this was a night he assumed he'd have to cherish for months on end again and he wanted to stay in this space in time as long as he could; connected and complete.

He’d been waiting months for this feeling and it was one that did not disappoint; one that could never disappoint. 

_[[ I keep doing that thing where I'm smoking again_

_Too much and now I'm faded_

_Keep tearing my heart now it's open again_

_A few drunk texts, now you're naked_

_(I can't help it, I can't help it)_

_(I feel selfish) I feel selfish (Selfish)_

_Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah ]]_

O-o-o-o-o-o-o


	5. Part V: Life

The next morning dawned as Hermione blinked her eyes open, wondering, momentarily, if it had all been a cruel dream of things she couldn't have, but she was met instead by a familiar vision. Draco sat at the end of the bed fully dressed, head in his hands.

“Draco,” she said quietly, afraid of what came next. He didn’t move and she sat up, pulling the blanket over her naked chest, “You don’t have to go yet. You could… stay for breakfast.”

A dark laugh emitted from behind his hands as he rubbed them down his face, “I shouldn’t have come here last night,” he said to the floor.

“Don’t,” she said sharply, “Don’t do this. Don’t make me feel like you didn’t want this.”

“It doesn’t matter what I want because I can’t have it and I shouldn’t have been selfish and put you through this again.”

“Draco,” she grabbed his wrist and watched as he hesitated before finally turning his head towards her. His gaze was blank; no pain, no passion, just an emotionless stare of a man who had learned, long ago, to shut it all away, “Don’t push me out.”

“I wish I could have been the man you saw in me,” he said quietly, his tone staying eerily even.

“You still can,” she’d have screamed it if she could have, but she knew better than to combat his distant demeanor with frustration. This mood was best handled with reason and rationality. Not that he’d listen, even then, but at least he wouldn’t flee. Or throw things. 

“I’ll only bring you down with me, Granger. And I can’t do that to you. You have your whole life ahead of you.”

“As do you.”

“No, the life you wanted me to have isn’t who I am. I can’t go to the Ministry every day and talk about the weather and Quidditch stats; ask Potter about the kids, pretend to care about department spending, I can’t do it with the demons I have inside me. The normality of it all makes my stomach turn. It’s like I’m living someone else’s life. I don’t know how else to explain it, but it drives me mad every second of the day.”

_[[ I did this all for you_

_Look what I turned into_

_She looked dead in my eyes and she saw nothing inside_

_I did this all for you_

_Look what I turned into_

_She looked dead in my eyes and she saw nothing inside ]]_

“Before you leave again, can you just,” she faltered, trying to find the right words as he stood from the bed, “Can you just kiss me once, sober, and then tell me you still want to go.”

He looked over at her, his eyes flashing for a moment, “I never _wanted_ to go. I _had_ to go. Just like I have to go now.”

“Just kiss me before you do. Before you walk out the door and I don’t see you for another three months. Before I have to go back to worrying about you every day, wondering what I could have done to make you want to stay.”

A few different retorts popped into his mind, but the defeat etched on her face made him bite them back. He walked closer, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand finding her waist as he looked at her, wishing more than anything that things could be different, “I’m sorry I’m making this so much harder than it should have been. I know I need to stay away, I just have this all-consuming need for you that I can’t fight when I’m… not in my right mind. But it’s not fair to you. I’ll try to stop coming over, I know you need to move on.”

“I don’t want to move on, Draco. I want you to come back and stay,” he could hear the sadness in her voice and it tore him to shreds inside, “I know it’s going to be work, but there is no work I would rather do than fight this together and grow with you.”

“But you are better off without me. You always have been; you are whole and your life is full, I wish you understood what a beautiful thing that was so you could just leave me behind.”

“A list of accomplishments isn’t going to curl on the couch with me at the end of a long day; a promotion isn’t going to look in my eyes and make a thousand little butterflies flutter about; a win in front of the Wizengamot isn’t going to replace the feeling of winning an argument with you," he gave a small laugh against his own will and her lip quirked a little seeing him break his stiff composure, "None of it fills me with that feeling of completion and deep love. That’s a feeling I’ve only ever gotten from you.”

“Someone else will make you feel those things—“

“They won’t,” she objected, “I’ve gone on dates. You left a year ago, Draco. Nothing is the same.”

“With _whom_ ,” his eyes flashed again. She wasn’t his, but he hadn’t considered that in between his visits she’d be… what? Living her life? Trying to move on like he kept telling her to?

“That’s none of your business.”

“Was it Davies? Did he finally make a move once I was out of the way?”

She stared at him, shaking her head and it was all the confirmation he needed.

“Well if you’re sleeping with the head of the department, it sounds like you’re all set and I’m not sure why we even needed to have this conversation.”

He went to stand and she pulled him back down, “I did not sleep with Roger, not that I’d have been doing anything wrong, mind you,” she said firmly, “We went on two dates and I didn’t feel anything, I just missed _you_. It just made me want to wait for your next midnight visit so I could try to catch you before you snuck out in the morning. So I could try to convince you to reconsider. You know, because you constantly ignore my owls and made your mother tell me you weren’t home when I tried coming over myself, early on.”

He felt his body relax at her confirmation that nothing physical happened between them, though he also felt something spark again inside. Something that made him want to stay; made him want to ensure she was his again, and only his, “It’s easier for us not to have contact. I was trying not to draw things out.”

“And yet here you are, a year later, drawing things out.”

“I should go,” he reiterated, going to stand again.

She sighed, surely realizing her own stubbornness wasn’t going to help her case, “Draco,” she said more evenly, “I won’t try to fight you, please just kiss me before you go.”

“Fine,” he said with a bit of an edge, scooting a little closer.

“I’m going to miss you again,” she said, her hand resting on his arm, softening him.

“I miss you every day,” her gaze always had the same effect on him, piercing through his defenses and pulling forward what lay behind them. He let it melt away some of the anxiety he felt for another moment before he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a lingering kiss as her bottom lip caught between his. He hadn’t kissed her sober in a year now and he felt his body responding to the feeling; To her intoxicating breath on his lips; to the chill running down his arm as her fingers traced over his skin; to the soft sound of a barely audible moan escaping as his thumb ran down her neck.

Her mouth opened to him and his tongue dipped in, brushing lightly against hers. He subconsciously registered her hand making its way to his thigh. He pushed his shoes off, climbing more fully over her on the bed as her arms circled around his neck, likely nervous he could leave again at any moment.

But that thought was far from his mind, currently, as the feeling of being connected to her again without the numbness of potions drove all rationality out. This was the feeling he’d tried to block out after he left because it was so hard to live without.

His shirt was on the floor and her hands were working on the button on his pants when a loud knock came at her door, jolting both of them as Draco pushed himself off the bed. They looked at each other for a beat before he shook his head, grabbing his shirt from the floor and throwing it back over his head as she jumped up and threw together an outfit.

“I’ll stay in here,” he said as she nodded, going out into the living room and answering the door.

He could hear Harry and Ron’s voices in the other room and it made his chest hurt again. They were stopping by to see if she wanted to get lunch. They sounded light and animated, laughing as Ron quickly told her a story from the morning.

“I’ll just be a few minutes behind you,” he heard her say before the door closed again and her footsteps tracked across the wood floors.

“Going to lunch with Potter and Weasley?” He asked casually, though with a bit of unintentional jealousy laced in, as she walked back into the room.

“You’re welcome to join, but I could tell as soon as the knock on the door came that you’d made the decision to leave again. Your shirt was back on before I was even out of bed.”

“I understand,” he said, slipping on his shoes.

“Draco, I want you to reconsider,” she said, “I want you to come back and I want to make this work.”

“Hermione, your life is easy without me,” he said, “All I do is bring drama into your life that you don’t need.”

“What’s life without a little conflict?” She quipped as she ran her fingers through her hair, “Nothing worthwhile is ever easy.”

“All we’re going to do is disagree on this.”

“Then maybe we can fight about it again another night soon,” she said with a small smile, “Say Friday? Sober, perhaps?”

“Hermione—”

“One actual plan is the least you could do for showing up at two in the morning whenever you damn feel like it.”

He sputtered for a moment, “Fine,” he finally said as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, “You’re so damn stubborn sometimes.”

“That’s why you fell in love with me.”

He looked back, taking in the light in her eyes and the wild hair currently framing her face, arms crossed and a knowing grin on her face, “It’s one of them. But I don’t think you've got time to hear all the rest. I will see you Friday, Granger.”

“See you, Draco.”

_[[ It's been a long time since I was young_

_And she was the first face I was looking to call mine_

_She said it's alright, had a couple of drinks_

_And I got issues we can fight about all night ]]_

The next week brought on a whole new bout of internal debates over what was right, but with his mind so wrapped up on their conversation, he could at least say by Friday that he hadn’t turned to alcohol or potions in the last week and that felt like a good start.

He’d knocked on her door that evening at a much more reasonable seven o’clock hour donning pressed black pants and a black button down tucked in. He knew it was a little unnecessary, getting dressed up for this, but it felt more like a way to prove he had tried to pull himself together for a sober, adult conversation; a conversation he still hadn’t made a final decision on. She’d answered the door in a fitted charcoal dress, something he’d bought her years ago for a date after one of his intermittent breakdowns. Expensive gifts always were one of his favorite apologies even if he knew she wasn’t one to fawn over material things.

“You look nice,” she said, stepping back from the doorway as he walked in.

“As do you, of course,” he looked around at the familiar room as she closed the door, feeling his stomach tense at the flash of memories of countless evenings spent entangled on the couch with a book in each of their hands, surrounded by a peaceful, contented quiet. 

“I made dinner,” Hermione regained his attention, her heels clicking against the floor as she headed for the kitchen, Draco following her in.

“Roast duck? You remember my favorite.”

“How could I forget, it’s the biggest pain to make, no wonder you enjoy it so much.”

“It’s actually quite easy if you know what you’re doing,” he quipped, taking what was always his seat at the table.

“How about a thank you,” she grinned at him, feeling almost like the last year could have been nothing but a bad dream with the ease of falling back into their banter.

“Thank you,” he conceded, “It looks delicious.”

“How is Narcissa doing, Draco? Does she know you’re here?” Hermione asked as she set down a platter of grilled vegetables on the table and took her own seat.

“No, didn’t want her to get her hopes up,” Draco said with a glance, “But she’s doing well. She’s been seeing my aunt more — Andromeda — I think it’s been good for her.”

“That’s wonderful. She must be spending some time with Teddy then, as well?”

“She is, I think being around a child again is softening her a bit. She keeps trying to hug me before bed. Wouldn't be all that unusual if she’d done those kinds of things when I was growing up, but my father always brought out her cold side; told her early affection made children grow up to be weak.”

“That’s… preposterous.”

“It is, yes,” he gave her a dry smile, “But she had a tendency to do as she was told. I know she cared for me, she just had a tough time showing it with his influence. She’s trying to be better about it now, just something to get used to.”

“Yes, I never quite knew how to greet her, when we were together.”

“She takes some warming up,” he cut into his duck, deeming it perfectly cooked as he set down his knife, “How are things at the Ministry, any exciting cases?”

“Oh there are always exciting cases, a few of which I’m sure I’ll bore you with eventually tonight,” she gave him a small wink as she reached for one of the fresh rolls from the center basket, “People ask about you, you know.”

“Hopeful I’ve ended up in St. Mungo’s, are they?”

“Just interested in how you’re doing. Believe it or not there were a lot of people who respected you in the office. You did good work and when I _could_ get you to socialize, you were actually quite sociable.”

“Any more dates with Davies set up?”

“Oh stop it, Draco, we went out months ago. And like I told you before, all it did was remind me how much I missed you.”

“It’s all the charm, isn’t it?”

“You are _full_ of charm tonight.”

Draco took a sip from the wine glass in front of him, a small smirk at his lips. She was the only girl he’d ever met that knew how to deal with him and somehow enjoyed it as well, “How about you tell me about some of those exciting cases you’ve got. See if I can solve any for you over dinner.”

”Well you’re not part of the department anymore so I can’t give you any specifics,” she said cheekily, “But we do have one that’s been all over the newspapers so I can give you the overview of the details that are already public information, since I know you don’t like to read the Prophet these days.”

Hermione had delved into a juicy story about an altercation over the Nott inheritance in which the grandmother of Theodore Nott had left everything to him and his parents were suing him for what they considered a fair share. Theo was her client and there was a messy backstory with Theo’s father being wrapped up in the Death Eaters and Theo walking away from his parents after Hogwarts and taking care of his grandmother in her old age. However there was some language in the will that had left a few prized possessions up to interpretation and had resulted in his parents trying to claim them for themselves. Hermione was researching the loopholes in estate law in order to help Theo solidify ownership.

”He was always a good bloke,” Draco nodded after Hermione had pledged her belief that he was the rightful heir, “Him and his father never got along. I’m not surprised they’re in some kind of legal battle. In my opinion his father should be sitting next to mine, but I gave my testimony and the Wizengamot made their decision.”

”I heard it was a really tough trial, actually, took days for the Wizengamot to make their final decision on him. I wasn’t in the department at that point, of course, but it’s one they bring up a lot, especially now that this case is going on. He seems like an awful man. But Theo seems quite reserved and pleasant. Works at Gringotts.”

”Figured he’d do something like that,” Draco said, looking impressed.

As they finished up dinner a little later, Draco charmed the sponge by the sink to scrub the dishes while he brought their glasses of wine out to the living room, swishing his wand to light the fire as she joined him on the couch.

“So what have you prepared for the evening to try and get me to change my mind?” He asked, fully aware of her intentions.

“I just want you to talk to me,” she said simply, “It felt like there was so much left unsaid a year ago when you walked out. There was so much I didn’t understand because you hit a point where you just started shutting me out.”

He nodded slowly, “I did, you're right,” he’d come prepared to finally explain what had been happening in his mind a year ago, figuring just an explanation in itself would provide some closure for her if they decided to... move on separately from here. He collected his thoughts for a moment before he made eye contact, wanting to come off as transparently as he could, “I’d been having more frequent nightmares about some of… my victims, for lack of a better word. It was getting harder to look at you every day and accept the love you had for me. It was getting harder to interact with my coworkers without the constant thoughts of _do they know the extent of what I’ve done_ ; To go in every day knowing I had my own file somewhere in the room detailing the atrocities I’d committed. And I kept thinking blindly about this future with you that felt so… unrealistic. And it just ate away at me until I couldn’t take it anymore. Until I felt like I had nothing left in me; no hope to fall back on. Hermione, I stepped out of my sad, comfortable existence at the manor years ago because you told me I could be more; that I could be better; that I could be happy. But I hit a point where I realized none of it felt real. Nothing but the love I had for you, but it felt so unfair of me to cling on to that.”

_[[I did this all for you_

_Look what I turned into_

_She looked dead in my eyes and she saw nothing inside_

_I did this all for you_

_Look what I turned into_

_She looked dead in my eyes and she saw nothing inside]]_

“What would make you feel real?” She asked, “What would make you feel like you were living your life and also shouldering the responsibility you put on yourself for everything in your past?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, “I don’t know how to move forward. I don’t know how to try to be happy without feeling like I’m pretending my past didn’t happen.”

“Well you said you didn’t feel right in an office job, I get that. I hear what you’re saying about the juxtaposition of the normality of a day job to the demons you have constantly raging inside you. I’ll never understand it, but I hear you. So, maybe let’s think about it from a different angle. What about the Wizarding Warriors Foundation?”

“What about it?”

“What if that’s your way forward? What if you take over as President of the foundation and focus on that as your life campaign. You did start the foundation so it makes sense. I’ve already talked to Hannah about how she would feel about potentially stepping down and she said she’d be _more_ than happy to go back to the Department For the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures full time and participate on more of a consulting basis as the next president learned the job. She enjoys it, of course, but I remembered her saying that her passion was really magical creatures. And running a foundation is hard, honest work putting together fundraisers, considering proposals, writing budgets and allocating funds. You could counteract the feelings that you’re getting by with a comfortable job by knowing that what you’re working for every day is improving the lives of those who were impacted by something you were a part of. You’d be taking responsibility for your past while working towards a better future; doing something you could be proud of.”

“How long have you been preparing this speech?” He gave a light huff.

“At least a week,” she smiled, seeing the wheels turning in his head as he considered it.

“It’s… not a bad idea,” he finally said, “Hannah would really be okay with that?”

”She looked kind of relieved to be honest. She’s been trying to balance that full time job with her constantly increasing volunteer hours with the Domestic Creatures Division and she’s been a little overwhelmed. That’s what gave me the idea.”

Draco nodded, a _not bad_ look on his features before he looked back at her with a sigh, “I like the idea. But finding a day job isn’t really the main issue here, is it?”

“No, but I do think it’s a _part_ of the bigger issue and I figured it might be a good small win to start with before we tackle the next one.”

“You are just as smart as they all say you are,” he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear as he grinned, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes, “But the main issue that we need to talk about is what I bring to _your_ daily life, more so than how to live mine.”

“Which is _love_ , Draco. That’s what you bring to my life.”

“No, you can’t simplify it like that because there’s so much more,” he exhaled heavily, “Hermione, these things you’ve witnessed in the last four years of knowing me… they’re not going to go away. I’m going to go through periods of very low lows and very momentary highs. I could never ask you to go through these ups and downs for the rest of your life with me.”

“You never did ask, Draco. I told you that I wanted to experience life together. All of it; the good and the bad. I can’t imagine my life without the spark you bring to it.”

“And what about the darkness. What about the pain and the hurt? What about every time I’ve lost my temper or taken out my burdens on you. You don’t need those things in your life. Without me, you could live the rest of your days never having to watch someone smash another bottle into the wall.”

“It doesn’t compare to the light in your eyes on the good days. And it doesn’t compare to the love I feel from you, even when you’re in your darkness. And those breakdowns, they were so infrequent by the end. It’d been so long since you’d had a really bad night that I honestly thought we were getting past it all; that we were figuring it out. If we just keep pushing forward together, I think the light will outweigh the dark inside you. And I think if I went on without you, it wouldn’t matter what achievements my life could bring me because without you by my side every night, it would never feel fulfilling. I _want_ to love you, Draco. I _want_ you here.”

“Why can’t you just let me let you go?”

“Because it’s never made a difference in the past; you keep coming back and I’m glad for it. So just stop fighting against it and be in this with me. Fight with me for every second of happiness we bring to each other's lives.”

He didn’t have a response and she moved closer, her arms snaked around his neck as his wrapped around her back. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, eyes closing tightly as an internal battle continued in his mind. She was the only good thing in his life and she wanted to spend her days fighting for him. She wanted to believe in him in a way he’d never deserved. He knew he could never make it through this life without her, but the unfairness of that to her felt insurmountable.

“I can’t do this without you,” he said quietly, “But I can’t do this _to_ you.”

“Then let me make that decision,” she whispered back, “Just keep pushing forward. Find something in this world that makes you feel like yourself, in or out of the Ministry, I’ll be proud of you no matter what you’re doing. I just want to walk this path with you.”

There was another moment of silence as he tried to come to terms with what she was accepting.

“Please, Draco.”

“How can I…?” the words held weight. He’d considered it, of course, he’d been going back and forth all week, knowing this conversation was coming. He’d let himself hope again, for a little while, and it had brought a smile back to his face at the possibility of all the things he’d seen in their future becoming a reality. And now he was here in front of her and she was telling him it’s what she wanted. And he wanted so badly to find a way to cut the last strings holding him back.

She pulled back, brushing the wisps of blond hair out of his eyes, “By not overthinking it,” she said, “By just being here and letting us live day by day without constantly worrying about me when I'm exactly where I want to be. You’re taking more from me by leaving; you’re taking a future of time and memories together. I know every day isn’t going to be easy for us, but I've never been afraid of what a lifetime with you would mean. From the moment I fell in love with you I've never second guessed it, you just project your own fears of how you think I should feel onto me. And because of that, we spent a year apart and it was hell. I hurt all the time and I know you did too. So why can’t we just be in this together.”

His eyes searched hers the way they always did when he was looking for reassurance, and finally, something clicked. The way she looked back at him was so pure; so unfiltered and sure. She didn't want him to be solely making a decision that affected the both of them, whether it was in her best interest or not. She was a woman; a strong, brilliant, force of a woman who didn't need him to protect her or shelter her from the storm. She wanted to lift him up and brave it all together, and maybe it was okay to just... accept that. And to give her everything he possibly could in return between the clouds. He took a deep breath before he slowly, and hesitantly, nodded, still trying to wrap his head around the finality of allowing this decision, “I promise I’ll never stop loving you.”

“And I promise I won’t give up on you, even in your lowest moments. I love you, Draco, you don’t have to do this alone.”

He leaned in and captured her lips, breathing in her confidence and exhaling all of the doubt and hesitation he’d carried with him for years. This felt like a turning point; like _the_ turning point where he left all of it at the door and finally trudged forward to take on life, burdens and all. Because it’s all he could do. There were no do-overs, but with Hermione by his side, he did feel like he had a second chance at the kind of happiness he’d never envisioned for himself.

“Please tell me you’ll stay,” she said as his forehead came to rest against hers, needing to hear a confirmation.

“I’m home,” he nodded, an overwhelming sense of relief coursing through his own body as he brushed his fingers softly through her hair before he leaned back and their eyes locked. She had tears in hers, happy ones; ones of the same relief, and he couldn’t help it as his lip pulled up and he felt his walls crumbling before her all over again. _She_ was his future and he couldn't have been more grateful. He knew there would be bumps, he knew he’d have to pour every single one of his potions down the sink once and for all for her, and that there would be another learning curve of dealing with his past without numbing the pain. But as difficult as it would be, she’d be by his side and he could finally see that they’d get through it, together. He could see a way forward and the fuzzy lines of what their future could be were starting to come into focus.

She stood with her own deep breath, holding her hand out to him as a final gesture to solidify his decision and start rebuilding. He looked at it another moment before he stood with her, slipping his hand into hers and letting her lead him back towards the light.

_[[ I'm running low on serotonin in these empty moments_

_I'm having trouble operating without my main component_

_I'm running low on serotonin in these empty moments_

_I'm having trouble operating without my main component ]]_

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

**The End**

O-o-o-o-o-o-o

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for checking out this little fic, hope you enjoyed it and please feel free to leave a review :)! 
> 
> For anyone interested, here's a preview of the full-length fic I'm currently working on (which is decently lighter in overall tone than this fic). I'm hoping to start posting in the next month!
> 
> Working Title: The Dark Maladies Line  
> Summary: The only way for Draco Malfoy to get Ministry funding for the development of his new batch of revolutionary potions was for Hermione Granger to oversee the process. It wasn’t best-case scenario, given their history, but maybe they could put all that aside for something that could change their world.  
> Tags: Dramione / Romance / Adventure / Post-Battle of Hogwarts / Slow-burn


End file.
